


Never Be Ready

by SKJC



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, First Time, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 09:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKJC/pseuds/SKJC
Summary: It takes Yuri a few years to figure out that the things you're looking for can sometimes be a lot closer than you think they are.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an edited re-post of something I posted a little while ago but was not happy with.
> 
> The title is borrowed from a song of the same name by Mat Kearney:
> 
> _We'll never be ready if we keep waiting_  
>  _For the perfect time to come_  
>  _Hold me steady, we'll never be ready_  
>  _When we don't know, though we can't see_  
>  _Just walk on down this road with me_

Otabek was sure he’d had a solid plan. He was going to take Yuri out after Worlds to celebrate their respective results, or barring that excuse, to celebrate Yuri’s sixteenth birthday having recently passed. Then he was going to confess that he really wanted to be more than just Yuri’s friend. They’d been in contact nearly every day since Barcelona, sharing music and cat pictures and selfies and skating videos via nearly every form of social media imaginable. It was an aspect of Otabek’s life that he’d grown accustomed to and enjoyed thoroughly, and he felt fairly certain that Yuri enjoyed it too. 

 His plan promptly went to hell, however, on Yuri’s birthday. 

About halfway through the morning, cognizant of the time difference between their hometowns, Otabek posted a carefully chosen internet stock photo of a group of kittens wearing birthday party hats to his Instagram account. 

**_Happy 16th birthday to my good friend @yuri-plisetsky!_ **

It was only a few minutes before his phone buzzed with a notification that Yuri had liked the post, and just another minute later before he also received a text message.

_omg that was fucking adorable_

The message concluded with a string of emojis - hearts in a rainbow of colors and several of the heart-eyed cat faces - and it brought a grin to Otabek’s face as he typed out a response. 

_I know it’s Worlds in a couple of weeks, but I hope you’ve got at least a little fun planned today._

A reply popped up. _it’s kinda weird but i’ve actually got a date_  

Otabek’s heart dropped into his stomach as he read the words over and over again, trying to hope that he'd interpreted it wrong. A date? Had he completely misinterpreted their interactions from the last few months? The way Yuri had blushed when they’d gone out in Barcelona before the Final? Hell, Yuri had come all the way to the Four Continents Championships that year just to see him. 

 _That’s a nice way to celebrate. With whom?_ Was that too nosy, Otabek wondered as he typed it out. No, it sounded like a friendly inquiry. He tapped the send button.

 _he’s an american university student on a year abroad_ came the reply. _we've been hanging out on and off lately and he asked me out to lunch for my birthday_  

A university student? Otabek was shocked. If that was the case then this guy had to be at least his own age, if not older. 

 _Sounds like fun. How did you meet him?_ Again, Otabek wondered if it was an appropriate question before sending the message.

The reply popped up quickly. _it’s stupid, his russian is awful so i helped him read a label on some shit at the grocery_

 _Well, so far the most shocking part of this story is that you offered to help a stranger for no reason._ Otabek punctuated that with a winking emoji even though he knew Yuri would realize it was a joke. 

_oh shut up_

Otabek shook his head, smiling slightly at the exchange despite the conflicting emotions he was experiencing. It was just a first date, it wasn’t serious, Yuri would probably get sick of the guy’s company quickly. He tried to tell himself all of those things for the rest of the day, but he still felt like he’d been kicked in the chest when he saw the Instagram photo of an attractive red-haired man with glasses kissing Yuri on the cheek in some cafe. 

In the time leading up to Worlds, Otabek learned more about Yuri’s… whatever the man was. Social media was a hell of a thing. His name was Lawrence. He was twenty-one years old, which Otabek definitely didn’t like. He was an art history student. He didn’t know a damn thing about figure skating, which Yuri had apparently found hilarious. Victor had gleefully posted a Snapchat story of “Yurio’s new BOYFRIEND watching him skate for the first time!!!!” and Yuri had been livid about it when they’d talked on Skype the following day.

Otabek couldn’t help but sympathize with the shock and awe on the man’s face in Victor’s stupid Snapchat. He was sure he still looked like that when he watched Yuri skate.

Thankfully, he was able to put the whole mess out of his head long enough to actually compete at Worlds. Yuri edged out Katsuki for gold to cap off his stellar debut season, and Otabek managed bronze despite Victor’s comeback to skating. He’d looked up at Yuri while they were on the podium during the medals ceremony, and Yuri had met his gaze with a rare public smile that seemed to Otabek to be the embodiment of pure sunlight. The pictures circulated social media like wildfire.

They still went out to dinner after the end of the competition. Just because Otabek had binned the stupid confession plan didn’t mean he didn’t want to spend time with a good friend. Yuri talked excitedly about his plans for the off-season, going home to his grandfather’s place in Moscow and visiting Japan for Victor and Katsuki’s wedding. 

“You should come,” Yuri added as an afterthought to the wedding talk. “It’d be nice to have somebody there who’s not a fucking idiot.” 

The thought _isn’t your boyfriend going?_ popped into Otabek’s head, but he didn’t articulate it. “I’m glad you think so highly of me, but I’m not going to invite myself to somebody else’s wedding.” 

“So I’ll tell them to invite you, jeez.” Yuri rolled his eyes dramatically. “They’re planning on inviting practically everybody, even fucking JJ, so it’s not like you’ll be out of place. Besides, I want you to meet Lawrence, he’s sick of how much I talk about you.”

Otabek tried in vain to digest that entire statement in silence for a full minute before Yuri started talking again.

“And if you have time I really want to come to Almaty and visit. You were fucking awesome when we went out in Barcelona, so I want to see you play in your hometown.” Yuri wore an excited smirk on his face as he sat forward in his chair, looking intently at Otabek. “Besides, your friends sound like the perfect horrible influence.” 

“If you want,” Otabek replied lamely. “I have a fold-out couch you can crash on any time.” In the back of his mind, he was sure he’d regret that offer one day. 

Whether or by Yuri's doing or not, Otabek wasn’t sure, but he received a wedding invitation in the mail shortly after returning home from Worlds. So, a month into the summer, he packed a bag and got on a plane to Japan. 

Meeting Yuri and Lawrence at the airport was a horribly awkward experience for Otabek. Yuri hugged him without a care in the world, and Otabek reluctantly returned the gesture before turning to shake the other man’s hand politely.

“Otabek Altin. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Yuri.” The words sounded perfunctory even to him. They were also a lie; Yuri really didn’t talk about the guy all that much, which Otabek was thankful for. However, his statement sounded better than “I’ve stalked you on social media for weeks.”

The wedding passed with a minimum of drama, at least by the standards of the guests. Christophe Giacometti pole-danced at the reception, much to his own boyfriend’s amusement. Phichit Chulanont had taken literally hundreds of selfies and then passed out on the floor after drinking too much sake. Yuri refrained from drowning JJ in the onsen, but talked about the possibility of doing so incessantly. All par for the course with that crowd, really. 

Lawrence seemed overwhelmed by the cacophony of craziness going on around him, and Otabek almost felt sorry for him, especially since Yuri barely seemed to notice. That didn’t stop him from feeling like shit when he saw them dancing together. The image stuck in his mind well after he returned home. 

It was almost the end of July when Otabek got a phone call from Yuri, which was strange. They usually talked on social media or Skype video chats. 

“Hey, remember when I asked if I could come visit this summer?” Yuri’s voice sounded oddly small and distant, and Otabek wondered if something was wrong or if it was just his phone reception.

“Yeah?”

“Any chance you’re free later this week?”

“You’re going to fly to Almaty on a few days’ notice?” Otabek was bewildered by the thought. “Aren’t you preparing for the fall season?”

“It’s fine.” Yuri definitely sounded like something was wrong then. “So is it all right if I come or not?” 

“Let me know when to expect you.” 

Yuri spent a week there, and it was the third day before they even talked about why he’d finally chosen to come.They were watching an American horror movie. Otabek was sitting on his awful old couch, and Yuri was sitting on the floor in a box split eating popcorn. 

“Lawrence dumped me last week,” Yuri stated without preamble. “He got tired of all the skating shit.” 

“Well, I guess it’s hard for other people to understand,” Otabek replied noncommittally. “We’ve been dedicating our lives to it for years. That’s not really normal.” It was true. Most people who weren’t world-class athletes would never understand the amount of time and dedication it took to perfect their craft. Otabek’s own friends made fun of him regularly for it, albeit in a light-hearted teasing fashion. 

“I guess.” Yuri sighed and leaned forward against the floor, stretching out his lower back. Otabek tried not to be too conspicuous as he watched, a sliver of Yuri’s pale skin showing at the gap under his t-shirt. 

Later that week at the club Otabek was playing at, his obnoxious friends tried to convince him that it was a good idea to confess to Yuri in the wake of his failed first relationship.

“Come on, it’s perfect.” 

“Seriously! He’s heartbroken over this stupid American and you can swoop in and be the hero.” 

Otabek rolled his eyes at the suggestions. Like he wanted to be Yuri’s fucking rebound. If they were ever to share anything deeper than their current friendship, he wanted it to be based on mutual respect, understanding, and maybe even love - not the idea that Yuri was depressed and lonely. 

He still enjoyed the sight of Yuri dancing to the music he played more than he had any right to. 

It was right before the first Grand Prix qualifier of the season that Yuri started dating someone new, a pretty and effeminate blond musician named Julien, who was apparently a younger friend of Christophe Giacometti’s boyfriend. Otabek didn’t get a chance to meet him. He was all right with that. 

If nothing else, the season started off great for both of them. Yuri had grown 10cm in three months over the summer but managed it admirably, and still won nearly everything. He was jumping nearly a full repertoire of quads by the Final and setting world records left and right. Victor’s so-called comeback was almost laughably unsuccessful - his heart wasn’t in it and everyone could tell. Katsuki obviously wanted to retire and enjoy his happy married life, and even JJ wasn’t at his best. It was pathetic, in Otabek’s opinion. At least he was solidly able to ignore Yuri’s constant flirting with the new boyfriend on social media. 

But on the last night at the end of the Final, Yuri turned up at Otabek’s hotel room, on the verge of tears. 

“Julien broke up with me.” 

Otabek let him in without question or judgement. They watched horrible TV all night and got more drunk on mini-bar liquor than was appropriate, but as usual, he restrained himself. Yuri needed a friend, not someone trying to get into his pants. They woke up in each other’s arms, fully clothed on top of the hotel bedspread and more hungover than Otabek would have liked, when Yuri’s phone rang repeatedly with Yakov reminding him of their flight back to Saint Petersburg. Otabek caught hell from his coach for drinking to that extent on a competition weekend, even afterwards. 

“This isn’t like you.”

“I know.”

The Pyeongchang Olympics came and went. Yuri made his mark on history with an Olympic gold medal and a kiss caught on live TV with an attractive Asian man whose name or actual ethnicity Otabek never even bothered to learn. He had been edged out of the medal standings due to a stupid mistake in his short program and selfishly avoided his best friend for his entire time at the games. It was ridiculous, he knew, but at that moment in his life he really embraced feeling alone. His coach was actively worried about him on their flight home, but he shrugged it off as nothing. 

Yuri dumped the random Asian guy right after the Olympics, if it even counted as dumping someone when you’d been involved for all of a month. Why, Otabek didn’t know, and he didn’t ask. Yuri never talked about it. 

Otabek managed to get his brain, body, and heart on the same page for at least a little while after that and finally achieved his crowning moment at Worlds. He won gold for Kazakhstan, and he couldn’t have been more elated. Yuri ended up with silver, less than one point behind. Otabek fully expected his friend to be pissed as hell, and it turned out he was wrong. 

“You were fucking amazing, Beka,” Yuri said when they were alone that evening under the guise of celebrating his seventeenth birthday. “Seriously, you deserved to win.” His eyes shined bright with joy and admiration and a gleam of what Otabek wished was something like love. 

It was probably the best chance he was going to get to confess and he knew it, and he didn’t anyway. He flew home to Almaty wondering why he could win a gold medal but couldn’t get his shit together enough to tell his best friend “hey, by the way, I’ve been low-key in love with you for a pretty long time now.” His coach noticed the change in his demeanor. He didn’t offer to explain. 

A month into the summer, Yuri’s Instagram began to feature numerous shots of himself with a muscular man with shaggy brown hair who Otabek would learn was named Anatoly. 

Anatoly was a competitive gymnast and Yuri dated him until well into the winter. Otabek met him while competing at Rostelecom and grudgingly admitted to himself that at least he understood what Yuri saw in that one. Unlike most of the rest, Anatoly understood the demands that Yuri’s career placed on his shoulders. They lived in the same city, they shared similar tastes in fashion and music. As long as Yuri was happy, Otabek had long since decided he could live with it. 

And then he received a worrying text from his friend only a couple of weeks before the Grand Prix Final. 

_if you want to maintain any respect for me at all, stay off social media for a while_

_???_ was the incoherent reply he sent, since he was terribly confused. It was early, and he was already at the rink for training. Yuri shouldn’t even be awake yet, he though, what was even going on?

 _my now ex-boyfriend is a fucking piece of shit_ was the entire response, and Yuri didn't elaborate further.

Otabek didn’t take the advice in the initial message, and was promptly bombarded with the headlines about leaked pictures of Yuri in sexual situations with the Russian gymnast. To Otabek’s credit, he did not look at the pictures in question, but it took all the self control he was capable of not to jump on a plane, find the man, and beat him to death. How dare he take advantage of Yuri’s trust by posting things like that online? It was utterly infuriating. 

 _I could never lose my respect for you,_ Otabek texted back, once he managed to rein in his anger.  

Yuri turned up at the Final with his hair cut dramatically short and even more of a “fuck off” attitude than usual. He decimated the competition, as Otabek expected. Yuri was the master of turning emotional suffering into hard work and triumph. Eyes of a soldier, indeed. 

“I kind of like your hair that way,” Otabek offered when they had a chance to make conversation. It was different. The longer hair had given him an air of elegant beauty, but the short look drew attention to the striking bone structure of Yuri’s face that Otabek had always noticed. 

“I don’t, not really.” Yuri sighed, shaking his head. “I just needed to change something. That was the easiest thing.” After having been a firestorm on the ice, he seemed deflated then. Otabek didn’t understand the sentiment, not really, but Yuri’s melancholy made his heart ache. 

The shitstorm gradually blew over, as they tended to do. As it turned out, no one was really that interested in judging a seventeen year old long-term for having sex, even on camera. Otabek laughed out loud when he saw a Youtube video of some of Yuri’s Angels showing up at Anatoly’s gymnastics competitions with rude signs and throwing rotten fruit at him. Man, did that asshole sure manage to kick a beehive. He’d probably never be free of them. 

With the passage of time came another World Championships competition, and Yuri’s eighteenth birthday. Otabek was finally beginning to entertain the idea again of finally confessing to Yuri, as ridiculous as it would be after all the time that had passed. Yuri had more or less taken a hiatus from his public social media for a little while after the whole photos scandal, but that was gradually ending, and they still spoke on an almost daily basis one way or another anyway. 

It was the night before the free skate at Worlds when Yuri found out his grandfather was in the hospital. 

Otabek answered the late-night knock at his hotel room door despite the fact that he’d been about to go to bed, but all thoughts of that left his mind as soon as he saw Yuri’s face. His eyes were red and puffy, there were tear tracks on his cheeks, and he looked like he was about to collapse from stress. Otabek ushered him inside immediately. He’d never seen Yuri this upset before. 

“Grandpa had a heart attack.” The statement began in a flat tone, but the end came out through an anguished sob. “He’s in the hospital. They don’t know how bad yet.” Yuri’s shoulders were shaking with the effort of not completely breaking down. 

Otabek’s breath caught in his throat, eyes wide with shock. _Shit._ He carefully pulled Yuri into a gentle hug, unsure if his friend would even want that kind of comforting, but Yuri crumpled against him, clinging to him like a lifeline. He murmured comforting nonsense while he guided the both of them to sit down on one of the beds before Yuri actually did collapse. 

Once his sobbing fit subsided a bit, Yuri spoke again, voice wavering. “What do I do if he dies, Beka?” He choked on the words. 

“You can’t think things like that.” Otabek had to swallow the lump in his throat. “You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“I’d be alone. He’s the only person who loves me.” Yuri was shaking again, and Otabek held him a little more tightly. 

“Plenty of people love you, Yura. Mila loves you like a little brother. You’re practically a son to Yakov. Even Victor and Katsuki love you in their own admittedly weird way. And I love you; you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” Otabek sighed, shaking his head slightly. “None of us could ever replace your grandfather, but no matter what happens, you’ll never be alone.” That probably wasn’t a promise he had any right to make, but it seemed like a good thing to say. 

Yuri didn’t say anything else, but eventually cried himself to sleep in Otabek’s arms. Otabek tucked him under the sheets of one of the beds, took his cell phone from the table between them, and went into the bathroom to call Yakov and let him know where Yuri was. 

The following day, Yuri competed despite everything, stating that his grandfather wouldn’t want him to skip the event. Otabek respected that, but privately worried that Yuri would be too distracted and end up hurting himself. Those fears were unfounded and Yuri skated a clean, if uninspired, free program. He didn’t go to the kiss and cry to wait for the score - Otabek knew he was getting on a plane to Moscow as soon as he could get to the airport. No one said a word about it. 

Nikolai recovered with no lasting damage, which Otabek thanked gods he didn’t even believe in for. The next several weeks saw Yuri's social media revolve primarily around helping around the house, preparing meals, ensuring his grandfather’s compliance with a medication regimen. They didn’t talk as much as usual, but Otabek couldn’t begrudge him that. He looked up a florist shop in Moscow and ordered flowers sent to the residence in lieu of bothering Yuri.

By midsummer, Otabek knew Yuri had returned to Saint Petersburg to start preparing for the next competition season. They’d talked about it on Skype - Yuri had been mad that his grandfather wanted him to go. Otabek had quietly and politely listened to him rant about it, and then asked why he had finished the competition at Worlds instead of going right home. Yuri hung up the call angrily, but several hours later, sent a text that read _you made your fucking point all right?_ and Otabek interpreted that as Yuri-speak for “You were right.”  

Otabek could usually tell what was going on in Yuri’s life by his social media, but nothing he posted that summer reflected that he was training. Instead, though, his Instagram and Twitter gave the impression that he was dating someone different every week, staying out late at clubs, and skirting the edge of getting into trouble. It worried Otabek, but he didn’t bring it up when they talked. He wasn’t Yuri’s keeper, and if Yuri wanted to talk about all of that, he would. 

He maintained that position until late August when he got a phone call from Victor. 

“You need to come see Yurio.”

“Why?”

“He’s acting horribly irrational and I think you’ll be the only person he’ll listen to.” 

Otabek had disagreed, but Victor Nikiforov was nothing if not persuasive, and he found himself on a plane to Saint Petersburg a few days later. Victor had booked him a first-class seat, which he found wildly overindulgent and unnecessary, but that was practically the definition of the man. 

Victor picked Otabek up at the airport. 

“Yurio didn’t show up at the rink this morning, and that’s not unusual these days.” Victor sounded more worried than Otabek had ever heard out of him. “He’s been so unpredictable ever since the incident with his grandfather’s health.” 

“I’m not sure what you think I can do to fix that.” Otabek sighed, looking out from the passenger seat of Victor’s car. “We’re friends, yes, but Yuri has always had a mind of his own.”

“Do you know how Yurio talks about you?” Victor asked, and glanced curiously over at Otabek. “It’s been all the time for as long as I can remember. ‘Oh, I wonder what Beka would think of this song.’ ‘Hold on, I have to text Beka this funny picture.’ ‘Beka would look great in that shirt.’ He can barely hold a conversation without mentioning your name.” 

Otabek was silent, unable to discern Victor’s meaning, not to mention how strange it was to hear Yuri’s nickname for him coming from the man’s mouth. 

“You mean more to him than he realizes, Otabek.” Victor said, finally. “And he’s the only one who hasn’t noticed the way you’ve looked at him for years.”

“So, what, you want me to corner him and scare the hell out of him by telling him I’m in love with him?” Otabek tried to curb the hostility in his voice as he said the words but they still came out sounding terribly angry. 

“He needs to hear it.” The statement was plain and simple on Victor’s part. After a moment, he added, “I have to admit, I’m curious why you’ve never told him, although my Yuuri would tell me it’s none of my business.”

“It’s not.” 

“Hmm. Well, I suppose it wouldn’t have been easy to find a good time. Yurio has certainly had some questionable relationships since you’ve known each other.”

“You’re one to talk, Nikiforov,” Otabek grumbled, skipping over any acknowledgement of the bit of truth in the statement. Victor’s behavior in his younger days was the primary reason most people weren’t all that shocked by the way Yuri usually conducted himself. 

Victor only chuckled in reply. 

When they arrived at Yuri’s apartment, Victor used the front door code that he knew to let Otabek into the building before running back to his double-parked car. Otabek watched him go before resigning himself to the fact that he had come all the way there and now had to do something. He sighed and headed up the stairs. 

Otabek was shocked at how exhausted Yuri looked when the apartment door opened, but at least Yuri seemed happy to see him.

“What are you doing here?!” Yuri exclaimed, pulling Otabek into a friendly hug, which he reciprocated somewhat awkwardly. 

“Surprising you, of course.” Otabek didn’t think telling Yuri that the whole thing was Victor’s idea would go over particularly well. Besides, he'd come to visit randomly like this once before, so it wasn't unprecedented.

Later that evening, they were listening to music in Yuri’s living room, eating take-out that wasn’t on either of their diet plans this close to the season, before Otabek finally decided he needed to get on with things. 

“I’ve heard through the grapevine that people are worried about you, Yura,” he said carefully, and Yuri immediately scowled at him, body language stiffening up.

“I don’t know why.” A roll of his eyes punctuated the statement. 

“Skipping practice is one reason. It’s not like you.” Otabek tried to make it sound as non-confrontational as he possibly could. “I don’t want us to fight about it, Yura, but I’ve been worried too.” 

“I don’t need you to worry about me.” 

 “I know you don’t. But I worry anyway. It’s what happens when you care about someone.” 

Yuri didn’t say anything else then, and they sat for a while with just the sound of the music filling the room. It was almost a half hour later before Yuri spoke up again.

“Why do you even like being around me, Beka?”

Otabek looked over at Yuri, with his long, lithe frame curled into a neat ball in the corner of the couch, a forlorn expression on his face.

“A lot of reasons,” he replied. “You’re interesting. You’re smart. You’re even funny when you’re not pretending you’re too cool for it. But really, the biggest reason I like being around you is that it makes me happy. Talking to you makes me feel like a shit day wasn’t as bad.”

“I can’t imagine why anything about me would make anybody feel happy.” 

With a sigh, Otabek put down his food and slid closer to Yuri on the couch to pick up one of his hands. This wallowing in self-pity that Yuri was doing wasn’t something Otabek would be able to snap him out of by being vague and noncommittal, he could see that clearly.

“Can I tell you something important?” Otabek asked, making eye contact, and Yuri nodded slightly. “I’ve been waiting for a good time to do this, but there’s never been one. And to be honest, I don’t think this is it either, but…” He let out a deep breath. “Yura, do you remember when we went out to dinner at Worlds right after you turned 16?”

Yuri’s blank, vaguely sad expression gave way slightly to confusion. “Yes.”

“I had made a big plan in my head to do this back then.”

“To do what?” By that point, Yuri looked thoroughly lost.

“To tell you that as much as I liked being your friend, I really wanted us to be something else.” Otabek had to force himself not to look away from Yuri’s face as he said the words. “But, you were seeing someone then, and I didn't want to interfere, so I kept it to myself.”

Yuri blinked rapidly, an expression of shock forming on his features as he stared at Otabek, slowly understanding what had just been said. “You…  You wanted to date me. Two and a half years ago.”

“Yes, you could put it that way.” Otabek swallowed nervously. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest now that he’d finally put at least some of his feelings out there in words.

“You watched me date all those guys and never said anything.” Yuri didn’t sound angry, just confused.

“You generally seemed happy, and I didn’t want to interfere. And when those relationships ended, I didn’t want us to be a rebound thing.” Otabek shrugged, and squeezed Yuri’s hand gently. “You mean more to me than anyone else in my life, Yura, regardless of the exact nature of our relationship. I’ve been perfectly happy being your friend.”

 Yuri regarded him intensely for several moments, working all of the information over in his mind. Finally, he asked, “So, when you were comforting me at Worlds, and you said you love me…?” 

“I meant that in whatever way you needed to hear it. Any possible interpretations are all true.” 

Yuri fell silent again, but he did uncurl himself from his little ball to lean against Otabek’s shoulder. They sat like that for some time, the cold food forgotten on the coffee table, until Yuri excused himself to go to bed. 

“I need to think,” he said, almost apologetically, and Otabek nodded. It was far from the worst outcome he’d ever imagined, especially given the circumstances, and he went to sleep on the couch feeling at least marginally as though he’d accomplished something.

The next morning, they sat down to what passed for breakfast - coffee and oatmeal - and ate in relative silence. Otabek wasn’t much for conversation in the morning and Yuri still looked terribly exhausted. 

After they’d cleaned up the cramped little kitchen, Otabek was about to ask Yuri what he wanted to do that day, when Yuri grabbed him by both hands and pulled him around so they were facing each other, rather awkwardly standing in front of the oven. 

“I’m sorry, you know." 

“For what?” Otabek asked, confused.

“It must have been hard for you, all this time. I thought about it and I wouldn’t have wanted to see you with other people.” Yuri looked down at the floor as he admitted that.  

“Hey,” Otabek said, just sharply enough to get Yuri's attention back on him, “you’ve got nothing to apologize for on that front. You weren’t responsible for my happiness. That was entirely on me.” 

Yuri nodded slightly, but still wore a contrite look. “I’m still sorry.”

Otabek pulled him into a tight hug instead of arguing the point further.

They spent the day just hanging out, going out to lunch and walking around, holding hands in the park, and creating a minor scene by showing up at the public ice rink for an open skating session in the afternoon. Victor and Yuuri invited them over for dinner, and even Victor refrained from making any comments with regard to the change in Yuri’s demeanor. 

Evening found them on Yuri’s couch again, this time watching some random movie on the television that Otabek wasn’t paying any attention to at all after Yuri decided to sit tucked up against his side without comment. Tentatively, he placed one arm around one Yuri’s shoulders in return. 

When the movie ended, Yuri grabbed the remote control off the cushion beside him and shut the TV off. After he threw the remote on the floor, he curled back up under Otabek’s arm and laid his head on the other man’s shoulder. 

“Beka?” Yuri asked softly, taking Otabek’s free hand in both of his own between them. “Can I tell you something?” He tilted his head slightly so that they could see each other’s faces, and Otabek nodded wordlessly, almost afraid of how this was going to go.

“I love you too,” Yuri murmured, apprehension written on his face as though Otabek might reject him. “I don’t know why I never realized. You’ve always been the first person on my mind for as long as I’ve known you. Any time I’ve ever been sad or lonely, you’ve been there for me. Whenever I’ve thought about the future, you’ve been pretty much the only constant. It’s so fucking obvious to me now, and fuck, I’m such an idiot.” 

It took Otabek a moment to process the words before a smile spread across his face, and then Yuri leaned in and brushed their lips together. It was simple and brief and he was all right with that.

They cuddled on the couch late into the night. After Yuri fell asleep, Otabek carefully carried him into the messy bedroom and tucked him into bed before returning to the couch to sleep himself. There was no way he was going to presume he was invited to share Yuri’s bed.

The next two days went by with Yuri gradually getting back to at least some semblance of normality for him. Otabek accompanied him to the gym, to practice at the rink, and even to his ballet training, although Otabek opted to refrain from participating, citing the fact that he was still terrible at ballet. No one questioned his presence at any of those places. 

On the evening of Otabek’s last night in Saint Petersburg, Yuri finally called Otabek out for still opting to sleep on the couch. 

“I was trying to give you space.” Otabek shrugged. They’d been comfortable the last few days, talking and cuddling and exchanging kisses that had become gradually more demanding of more, but he had no expectations. “How things are is fine with me.”

“Space is the last thing I need.” Yuri’s face contorted in an exaggerated pout, standing in the living room doorway in a fitted white undershirt and a pair of tiger-striped pajama pants. “I’m getting all my stupid emotional shit worked out. Besides, I’ve always felt comfortable and safe with you, and I want to wake up in your arms at least once before you have to leave.” His cheeks colored slightly as he admitted that, but neither of them acknowledged it. 

Otabek sat up on the couch and looked carefully at Yuri, wheels turning in his head. It wasn’t like he didn’t want that as well, and Yuri’s obvious sincerity was endearing. “All right,” he said after a brief hesitation, and stood up from the couch. Yuri’s resulting smile was bright enough that it could have lit up the entire city, and the sight of it made Otabek ridiculously happy.

He followed Yuri into the still-messy bedroom and slid in between the unbelievably soft sheets while Yuri shut off the light. He knew perfectly well that sheets were one of the few things Yuri was a snob about, with the rest of the short list being skin care products, fashion, and coffee. Once the light was out, the room was illuminated only by the moon and streetlights shining in the window, and Yuri climbed into bed as well and promptly curled his entire body around Otabek’s, enveloping him in an intimate embrace.

Otabek shifted slightly so that he could reciprocate the gesture a bit more comfortably, and turned his head a bit to place gentle kisses on Yuri’s forehead and cheeks. The way that Yuri sighed softly in contentment and tried to snuggle closer made his heart swell with joy. “I love you, Yura,” he murmured against Yuri’s soft hair.

Yuri opened his eyes to look up at Otabek’s face, the corners of his mouth turning up in a little smile, before brushing their lips together sweetly. “Say it again,” he whispered, barely pulling away to speak.

“I love you,” Otabek repeated several times, giving little pecking kisses between each repetition, happy to oblige the younger man’s need for affection. He had been aware for years that he would do nearly anything Yuri asked of him, and it wasn’t as though this particular request was especially onerous. Yuri clung to him almost desperately, reciprocating each little kiss, soft happy sounds escaping his throat each time Otabek spoke. 

“I love you too, Beka,” Yuri finally said quietly, after Otabek had tapered the display of his affection off somewhat. “I feel so fucking stupid that I wasted so much time we could have been together like this.” 

Otabek sighed and hugged him more tightly. They’d had this conversation a few times so far, phrased a little differently each time, but he knew Yuri needed to keep saying it, so he kept listening. “There’s always the future, Yura,” he replied. “We’ve got more control over that than we do the past.” He carefully combed his fingers through Yuri’s soft hair as he said the words, remembering the unfortunate circumstances under which Yuri had chosen to cut it. “And speaking on the past, I’m glad you’re growing your hair long again."

“I thought you said you liked it shorter.”

“I didn’t dislike it,” Otabek replied. “You look beautiful no matter what… It just suits you better this way, I think.”

Yuri made a vague sound of agreement. They laid together in a comfortable silence for several minutes, and Otabek began to drift off to sleep, until he felt soft, damp kisses trailing from just under his ear down his neck to his jawline that made a shiver of pleasure shoot down his spine. 

“Yura,” he began, trying to sound as composed as possible, “what are you doing?”

“Don’t you like it?” Yuri murmured against Otabek’s skin, nipping softly at the curve of his neck, and then continued to kiss and suck at random spots. 

“I do,” Otabek replied carefully, all too aware of Yuri’s continued ministrations as well as the hand that had started stroking his chest through his thin tank top. “It feels good. I’m just… unsure what your intentions are.” 

“My intentions?” There was amusement in Yuri’s voice, and he propped himself up on one arm to look down at Otabek’s face. “Well, I was hoping to get you naked at some point tonight,” he smiled slightly when Otabek blushed, “and from there I figured we’d just see what happens.” He dropped his head to press a kiss to Otabek’s lips that was more passionate than the previous ones. It gradually deepened, becoming more heated as their mouths opened and tongues explored one another, but after a few moments, Otabek pulled away slightly to look at Yuri again, his gaze full of questions.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked quietly, honestly. He’d waited too long for this to fuck it up by bringing sex into the equation too early. “We don’t need to rush.” 

“Yes, Beka, I’m sure.” Yuri leaned down again to cover Otabek’s mouth in another kiss, less intense than the last but still making Otabek’s pulse race with anticipation just the same. “I love you so much that I can barely comprehend it… But I still want to do everything with you.”

“I just don’t want to mess this up by rushing things,” Otabek admitted, cupping Yuri’s face with one hand. “You’re too important to me for that.”

“I’m not some damn blushing virgin, Beka.” 

“I know.” Otabek took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next admission that he knew would surprise Yuri more than a little. “But I am.”

“What?” Yuri’s eyes shot wide open in shock, eyebrows arched high. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Is that okay?” 

 “I mean…” Yuri hesitated, looking as though like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “Well, yeah, I don’t give a shit. I just always assumed…” He paused again. “Hell, Beka, the entire world has seen pictures of me sucking dick and taking it up the ass and you want to lose your virginity to me?”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t give a damn about any of that. The fact that some asshole decided to violate your trust isn’t a reflection of your worth as a person.” Otabek pulled Yuri close to him again, feeling protective all of a sudden. “So yes, I do want to lose my virginity to you, because I love you. And for the record, I never saw any of those pictures.”

“You didn’t?” Yuri’s voice sounded almost as surprised as he had just a moment previously. “Why not?” 

Otabek shook his head. “Why would I? Yura, I’ve fantasized about you plenty, don’t get me wrong, but participating in some mass violation of your privacy isn’t anything I ever wanted.”

Yuri didn’t say anything to that, but he did bring one hand up to stroke the side of Otabek’s face lovingly before kissing him again, deep and hungry, quickly escalating it to the passion they’d reached before Otabek had stopped him before.  

Otabek’s heart pounded in his throat and he moaned softly as Yuri moved over him to straddle his hips, and he held onto to Yuri's slim waist as the heat of their mouths meshed together, tongues stroking and probing, before Yuri’s attention turned back to the skin of his neck. It was never something he’d expected to feel good before, but the feeling of Yuri’s lips and teeth sucking and nipping at him made him feel lightheaded with desire. 

“Clothes off,” Yuri muttered against his ear and sucked sharply at the earlobe before he sat up far enough to yank his own t-shirt off and throw it on the floor. Otabek inhaled sharply as Yuri’s ass pressed against his crotch, and his tank top quickly followed. Then they were kissing again, bodies pressed together, and Otabek marveled at how Yuri felt in his arms, bright and hot and full of energy. The way he pressed down against Otabek’s growing erection and moaned eagerly into his mouth at the feeling of it made Otabek’s head spin. Emboldened, he stroked one hand down from Yuri’s waist to his hip before cupping the front of the tiger striped pajama pants, feeling how hard Yuri was as well, and Yuri mewled desperately into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Beka,” Yuri panted, “let’s switch positions, I want you on top of me.” 

Otabek obliged, and it surprised him that Yuri was even more responsive to every touch and kiss once he was being pressed against the mattress by the weight of Otabek’s body, and he loved the way Yuri grabbed at his shoulders and his ass as they rocked together. He groaned desperately as Yuri arched up against him. Finally, Yuri began frantically tugging Otabek’s sweatpants off, and they both managed to rid themselves of the last of their clothes before their mouths found each other again. 

“Beka, you know your dick is fucking huge, right?” Yuri asked, gripping and stroking the organ in question, and Otabek uttered only a throaty groan in return. Yuri’s soft hand felt so much different than his own, and he was already so turned on it was ridiculous. “Can I go down on you?”

“If you want,” Otabek managed weakly, shifting off of Yuri's body so he could lay back down, and he gripped the sheets in one fist as Yuri left a hot trail of kisses down his body, stopping briefly to suck red welts into the skin of his abdomen. Finally, Yuri’s mouth found his cock, and he whimpered with the pleasure of it as Yuri’s hot tongue flicked over his slit and then licked at the sensitive underside of the head. 

Yuri gripped the base of his cock in one hand, and used the other hand to bring one of Otabek’s  hands to his hair. “It’s okay,” he pulled away long enough to murmur the words, and then took as much of Otabek’s erection into his mouth as he could. Otabek cried out loudly in equal parts surprise and pleasure, gripping Yuri’s hair in one hand and the bed sheets in the other. The hot mouth on him felt unlike anything he’d ever imagined. Yuri alternated between taking him deep and then pulling back to suck lightly at the head, and it didn’t take long before he was already embarrassingly close. 

“Yura,” he gasped, pulling gently at Yuri’s hair to get him to stop.

“Too much?” Yuri asked, voice just slightly raspy, as he pulled off just enough to ask the question. “I don’t mind if you come in my mouth.” 

 Otabek moaned and let his head fall back agains the pillow again. “You’re sure?” 

“Stop asking me that,” Yuri replied, a cheeky grin on his slightly swollen lips, before he took Otabek in his mouth again. The heat rapidly built in Otabek’s belly again, his balls aching tight against his body, and he forced his eyes open to look down his body at how beautiful Yuri’s mouth looked around his cock. It was only moments later that he tensed, hips jerking upward against his will, and he cried out with abandon as he climaxed in the heat of Yuri’s eager mouth.  

As Otabek came down from the high of his orgasm, he vaguely registered the fact that Yuri had crawled back up his body to embrace him again and was grinding his still very hard dick against Otabek’s hip. “I want to help you with that,” he said, and took Yuri in his hand, stroking the full length of him firmly and twisting his hand around the head. He reveled in the cries he was able to wring from Yuri’s lips, and gripped more firmly, trying to mimic the actions he liked himself despite the somewhat awkward angle. Their lips met again in another deep, intense kiss and Yuri moaned and gasped into Otabek’s mouth as he came in his hand, making a mess of both of them. 

Like they both wished, they woke up in one another’s arms the following morning, sunlight streaming through the window acting as their alarm clock. 

When Otabek had to leave to go home, Yuri snapped a selfie of the two of them together, one of his arms slung over Otabek’s shoulders, at the airport drop-off. 

“Can I post this online?” He asked, and Otabek agreed. The image appeared on Instagram as Otabek was boarding his plane, and he knew that because he received a notification that he’d been tagged in it. 

**“ _Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”  see you again soon @otabek-altin_**

Well, he’d given Yuri permission to post the picture, but he probably should have asked what the caption was going to be. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. 

The gossip blogs exploded, as usual, and by the time Otabek turned his phone back on when the plane landed, he had more social media notifications than he could count, a voice mail from his coach pleading for at least a little warning the next time he was going to do something so public, and a couple of apologetic texts from Yuri saying he probably should have thought it through. Otabek shrugged it off. People had been speculating about them practically forever, it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Yuri gradually returned to his old self, or at least a new version of it. He worked himself senseless making up for the time he’d lost to prepare for the upcoming season, but he assured Otabek that it didn’t mean he was going to be easy to beat. Otabek laughed.

“No one ever thinks you’ll be easy to beat.”

Navigating the new nature of their relationship over the long distance was difficult. They didn’t compete together until the Final. Yuri made the trip to Four Continents again as a spectator so they could have a bit of time together there, and Otabek managed to go visit during the European Championships. It drove both of their coaches up the wall, but neither was willing to demand a stop to it. 

Worlds had been a standing date for them for a while, even if it was different that time around, and Yuri posted another Instagram shot that had the fans in an uproar. The image was of the two of them curled up in a hotel bed together - fully clothed, Otabek had shot down the idea of making it more risqué - and captioned **_celebrating my 19th birthday a little late but at least it’s with the love of my life @otabek-altin #boyfriendgoals_**

The off-season that year went by too fast for either of their tastes. They spent most of it together, in Saint Petersburg and with Yuri’s grandfather in Moscow, with Otabek’s family in Almaty, and even some time with Victor and Yuuri visiting Hasetsu. Yuri’s social media was almost nothing but pictures of them together, and Otabek’s was similar, albeit to a lesser extent. A popular skating magazine had called them “the hot new power couple” months prior and Yuri found it hilarious to use that as a hashtag on all of the pictures. 

When it came time for them to head back to their respective homes for training, Otabek couldn’t help feeling somewhat depressed. He dutifully threw himself into the preparations necessary to get back into the shape he needed to be in for competition, and he knew from their Skype conversations that Yuri was doing the same. 

It was after the Grand Prix Final that Otabek’s coach shared the news that he would be retiring after the end of the current season. Otabek gaped at him in surprise. That wasn’t something he had been expecting to hear. 

“It’s all right. I’ve spoken to some people who will take you on, and I think the arrangement will be better for you anyway.”

Otabek was skeptical until he heard the rest of the plan. The season rolled on. 

Both Yuri and Otabek arrived three days early for Worlds so they would have time to celebrate Yuri’s twentieth birthday before the competition. Otabek couldn’t have been more eager to share the news about the upcoming changes to his career, which he’d purposely kept quiet up until then. Even his coach had promised not to make anything public yet.

“All of this time we have to spend apart really sucks,” he commented offhand in their hotel room on the third evening. 

“Yeah, it does.” Yuri sighed dramatically and burrowed against his side under the covers of the large bed. 

“It would be great if we could do something about that.”

“Sure, one of us can just pack up and move, that will work out brilliantly.” Yuri’s sarcasm was out in full force, but Otabek ignored the tone.

“Now that’s an idea.” He grinned widely. “I was just thinking that Saint Petersburg would be a nice place to live.”

“Don’t be stupid. What about your coach?” 

“Well, I guess it’s a damn good thing he’s retiring after this weekend.”

Yuri sat up abruptly and stared at him, eyes wide and mouth gaping. “What?!” 

“He told me after the Final. He also told me that he arranged things with Victor, of all people, to coach me from now on.” 

“Oh god. Victor is going to be fucking insufferable.” 

Otabek laughed and pulled Yuri back down next to lay next to him again. “I don’t care about that. Do you want to live together or not?” 

“That’s a stupid question.” Yuri ran his hands through Otabek’s short hair and kissed him passionately. “Of course I do.”

The next Instagram photo Yuri posted of the two of them was after the medal ceremony later that weekend. They wore their respective gold and silver medals, kissing under a street lamp. Yuri captioned the picture **_best fucking birthday present ever!!!_**


End file.
